Fallout: In search for GECK
by OldBoy5
Summary: You know when you finished Fallout 2 game and can continue to play. Well, this is my vision of the world. I am also channelling some Fallout 3 game aspects in this story.


"It doesn't exist, it does not!" The voice in my head screamed through the quite droll of the radio. I tried to lift my head of the bar but my elbow slipped on wet surface and I slid half way down to the floor. Rough hands slid under my arms and dragged my semi-conscious body into the cold night.

" Fuck, let me go. It's doesn't exist you fuckers. You lied to all of us. CUNTs." I spewed the words and some of the liquid that I consumed earlier that night.

It was raining heavily and in an instant my hair was wet, tangled across my face. The heels of my boots dug into the mud and we got stuck. The person who dragged me pulled hard once, twice almost ripping me in a half. Or maybe it was the contents of my gut that twisted my body in convulsion.

"Lemy go."

" If you say so."

For a second I felt suspended in reality, my mind numb to the concept of space and time and then I feel backwards, unceremoniously like a sack of shit. Whiplashed I laid there for a moment, grabbing with my fingers through the mud trying to hold onto something. Disappointed to find only soft soil I looked up. In the dimness of a single neon light I saw sheriff Duncan's clean-shaven face. Eyes judging but without menace.

"Sleep it off Jim."

He watched me for a moment, while the rain drops collected on the brim of his hat and cascaded down to my face. It was sobering experience I tell you.

"They lied to us all. What is the point of it all now Dun?" I almost whispered. I had no fight left in me.

"I don't know Jim." Replied Sheriff Duncan and left me there.

Heavy banging on the tin shed door woken me from deep and troubled sleep. I had no recollection of how I got to my miserable dwelling. At least I managed to wrestle out of the muddy coat, before collapsing into pos-war, what looked like bedlam acquired bed.

The banging repeated. Now followed by mild cursing.

'Open the dam door, its way past midday Jim.' Sheriff voice was irritated with a tingle of gona-blow-his-head-off to it.

I perched myself on the elbow and searched for a water flask under the bed. Few gulps in my mouth and splash of water on my ragged face helped with the approaching hangover. Across the creaky floor of common room and to the window. Yes, that was Sheriff Duncan alright, probably here to lecture me on my drinking problems. He shuffled on his feet and then I noticed he was carrying double barrel in his right hand. This could only mean trouble.

I quickly glanced at my own rifle that was hanging off the hook in the corner of the common room, and reached for the door. Duncan's face appeared troubled but not in the urgent manner.

'What is it?' I opened casually.

'Can I come in?' he replied and tipped his head slightly.

'Sure.'

I walked back and sat on the chair by the shaky table. Always had mind to fix it but never got to it. Dun had a quick glance at the room and took a sit on the other side of the table. He gently leaned his shotgun against the chair, his hands steady.

'Listen Jim it's hard for me to bring this up but,' He faded out for a second, searching for the right words. Our eyes locked in for a moment and memory's flooded in like a in a storm.

The time when I discovered their shelter, 77. It was locked from the inside, never to be opened. I helped them escape and find a place for a settlement. Men don't often discuss those things, enough was said in the silence, in the occasional look, tip of a hat, a handshake.

'You have been a great help, especially when it came to...killing folk and what not. But our community is worried that you are losing it Jim and they don't want you around anymore.'

It was a blow, a hard blow to take, if not somehow I saw it coming. That headache was also coming on and I was in no mood to talk about this shit.

'I see. And you are fine with it Dun.' Was all I could manage right now.

'Jim hear me out. I know you weren't ever a Vault dweller. We, being the second and third generation didn't know shit. Dint have a clue what was out there in the Waste. You helped us to survive, taught us how to be tough and that as hell you didn't learn from the Vault computers. So, I guessed that you were born on the surface and I guessed you did some wondering around with your knowledge of the Wastelands.' Dun stopped for a breath and licked his lips. It was by far the longest monologue I ever hear from a man, but I was getting grimmer with every word he said.

'I also noticed that ones in a while you would take few days of guard duties. At first, I thought you were drinking yourself stupid here in this room, but then you did it anytime you wanted anyhow. So, one day I followed you out of the village and tracked you all the way until you stopped.'

My hand that was under the table slid to the gunbelt on my thigh where I carried my old revolver .44 magnum. Old as a world itself it was still the best weapon when it came to close and personal blowing the heads up. If Duncan noticed anything he made no indication. Out of all the 77 Vault dwellers he was probably the most practical guy and a natural fighter. He also commanded an area of authority which landed him a Sheriff's position back in a day. Together we led this flock to safety of the oasis, as I like to call it. He was probably the closest thing to a friend that I had, but right then I was considering blowing his guts out. He continued.

'I waited till you left and then snuck into your hideaway. I did and I am not proud of it. But I was so god dam curious and jealous of you. Forgive me Jim.'

TREATOR! My mind was screaming at my hand to pull the gun out and that was when he broke down. Tears were running down his face, he was shaking and sobbing uncontrollably. Through all this mess he managed to say.

'I saw it Jim, I saw it all. The power armour, pip-boy and the jumpsuit. I put two and two together, the rumours that were thinker then the jam with every trader that passed our village. I know who you are. The Chosen one, the disgraced one. The Lone Wonderer.


End file.
